


Non Riesco A Cucinare E Cosi Anche Voi (DALLON WEEKES)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Dallon Weekes - Fandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Dallon Weekes - Freeform, Other, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, reader - Freeform, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-23 00:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7460418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Word count: 1227</p><p>Requested: Yes</p><p>Okay so this one is really bad lmao but it’s what was requested and I tried my best??? So I am sorry if this is horrible lmao also chicken alfredo is the only thing that I can cook that is close to Italian food also I feel like all I did was write a recipe for something I cook like every week lmao</p>
            </blockquote>





	Non Riesco A Cucinare E Cosi Anche Voi (DALLON WEEKES)

“Look, I want to cook you some food,” You mumbled, half asleep, “But I don’t know how.” Dallon’s hand was rubbing down your bare back, humming under his breath as you laid together in the middle of the day.

“Yeah?” He asked, “What do you want to cook me?” You shrugged and pressed a kiss to his chest, “Italian would be nice,” He was hinting, and you knew that.

“Italian it is,” You pushed yourself up on your elbows and sighed, “Too bad I have no idea how to cook Italian food,” Dallon laughed and pulled the blanket tighter around your bodies to preserve the heat rolling off of them. “Can you teach me?”  
  
Dallon scoffed at you, “Teach you how to cook food for me? I barely know how to cook Italian, let alone teach someone how to cook it!” You gave him the face you reserved for when you wanted something- the one Dallon couldn’t resist. He took one look at you and sighed, tossing his head back into the pillows.

“Dallon, come on,” You whined. He huffed around for a bit before agreeing. The two of your shuffled out of bed and finally dressed for your day, languidly with kisses between articles of clothing. He followed you to the kitchen, working through whatever recipies he had in his head, found on the internet or in books he saw in stores.

Dallon finally decided on an easy to make chicken alfredo, already having all of the ingredients in the house. He gathered everything while you set up the kitchen, getting the pots and pans out to cook what needed to be cooked. Dallon looked uneasy as he pushed himself up on the counter and looked over you.

“Alright, so, uh,” He hummed, “I guess we start with boiling the pasta? We have the alfredo from the can, so that just has to be heated up.” You reached out for the pasta when Dallon cried out. “Wait, no, okay, so cut up the chicken breast first and then put oil in the pan and cook it,” He had taken his lip between his teeth, “And throw some garlic in while it’s cooking so when we put the cooked pasta and alfredo together and heat it to mix it, the chicken will warm back up.” You looked at Dallon and his face looked as confused as you felt.

“Dallon, do you actually know what you’re doing?” He shook his head, “Have you ever seen anyone make this?”  
  
“Once, on youtube,” He grinned at you and ducked his head to press a kiss to your lips, “But I think it’s that simple,” He shrugged, “I mean, how hard can it be?”  
  
“Is this even Italian food?” You dug out a cutting board and began chopping up the raw chicken, cringing as it slid through your fingers. Dallon jumped down from the counter and leaned against the counter by your side. He looked over you with an emotion you had never seen before and he pulled the pan over and oiled it, holding it for you to dump the chicken in.

“I dunno,” He shrugged, finally answering your question, “You wash your hands and I’ll get the garlic. Does it really matter if it’s Italian? It’s kind of Italian, I guess. It’s alfredo and we’re putting garlic in it,” You rubbed the soap into your hand, trying to get the chicken juice off of it as Dallon started up the burner and grabbed a spatula to cook the chicken. You approached behind him from behind and wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face into his back.

“Uh, no,” He chuckled and removed you, placing the spatula into your hands, “I am teaching you to cook, so cook up the chikkies,”  
  
“You have been spending too much time with Brendon,” You snarked back, “Making up stupid nicknames for things,” Dallon placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, causing you to giggle and nearly drop the pan. “Dallon, calm down!” You laughed and continued frying the chicken until it was done and then Dallon grabbed a plate, pushing the chicken on it.

“Okay, so now you have to cook the pasta, I trust you can cook pasta?” You flip him off and grin lovingly, bringing his chin down so you could kiss him.

“I know how to cook pasta, will you hand me the fettuccine noodles?” Dallon passed them to you, tossing them through the air to you. You caught them, ripping the box open and pouring the pasta into the water. While you were waiting for them to boil you turned to Dallon, wrapping your arms around him. He swayed the two of you back and forth, and then the timer you had set went off and Dallon spun around to grasp the pot and tip it over the sink, dumping the noodles into the strainer. The steam blossomed up and Dallon coughed, turning his face away. You saw the condensation roll down his face and he shook out the pan before setting it on the counter.

“Okay, so get the can of alfredo sauce and pour it in the same pan you cooked the chicken in, and put it on low heat so we can mix everything together,” You did what he said, turning the burner on low heat and then you dumped the contents of the can into it, Dallon adding the pasta too and then the chicken. Dallon took his turn to wrap his arms around your waist, settling his chin on your shoulder. “This is looking good,” He hummed, “I wonder if it will taste as good as it looks,”

“You know it will,” You sassed, “I made it,” You turned to smirk at him and when you felt like it was warm and mixed, you took the food off of the stove and waited for Dallon to hold the container you used for dinners, such as casseroles. “And you helped,” He set the table while you got the utensils and the napkins before he joined you at the table. The silence rang through the household, Dallon holding his fork in anticipation just as you did.

You both nodded to each other and then put the food in your mouth at the same time, chewing slowly. You liked the taste of the food, but it twinged in a strange way. Dallon grimaced and so did you before you let the food fall from your mouths.

“I thought we did everything right,” He looked at you and then back at the food, “But apparently we didn’t,” You pushed the food away and chuckled, looking at the time.

“We can order in? It’s barely four,” You suggested. Dallon nodded and went to the computer while you searched through your takeout menus for something to eat. Dallon returned to you, arms finding your waist again. He leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Non riesco a cucinare e così anche voi,” You were sure that his pronunciation was off and you also weren’t sure what he said, but you knew it was Italian.

“What did you say?” You asked, turning around and looking up at him. He grinned and kissed you.

“I can’t cook and neither can you,” Dallon grinned cheekily at you. You scoffed at him and dialed the number for the pizza place, ordering in.


End file.
